“You didn’t find him,” says Lewa gently, pouring Simone a glass of water.

Simone gulps at the liquid. It is soothing, but not enough. “I’ll just sleep for an hour,” she tells Lewa. Jasmine’s podgy hand has crept onto her leg and with closed eyes, Simone squeezes it. She should pick the girl up, she should reassure her, she should tell Lewa what she did and didn’t find, but her eyes are already closed, and the dreams are coming now, the dreams and the nightmares. “Wake me in an hour,” she mutters.

Lewa hands her a blanket. “It’s okay,” she says. “You sleep for a bit. My turn now. My turn.”

Veronica

The day took on a surreal quality that Veronica was unable to quite pocket. She kept taking it out and examining it, drawing her focus from the children she was supposed to be instilling with number bonds and capital letters; but even they seemed to sit differently that day, as though the storm earlier in the week had somehow rendered them all in a new, untried state of being.

For Veronica, however, the day’s idiosyncrasies weren’t weather-made. There were three clearly identifiable sources.

First: the fact that she and George, un-coerced, had been at it like rabbits since their return from France. In bed that morning she had not even had to remind George that it was ovulation day.

Second: although she’d been taken aback by Terry’s aggression the day before, it hadn’t triggered the old anxiety. If anything, it had bolstered her with indignation, and the very fact of this had strengthened her more. Immediately after he’d slapped her window, she’d called the council, they’d made further assurances, and there hadn’t been a sound from Terry for the rest of the day. There was no untended, crying child during the night, she hadn’t seen Simone return, and a hopeful, optimistic sense was beginning to creep into Veronica’s psyche: the awful man was nearly dealt with; she herself had spoken up; Dominic and his sister were safe; and her and George’s haven was almost complete.

Third: Sarah. Out of everything, this had perhaps been the most surprising development, because Sarah had appeared out of the blue at drop-off that morning, with none of the friction of the past couple of weeks. It was as if she’d finally understood that in not following through on the parent-teacher meeting, or Amelia’s ‘problematic’ report, Veronica had retracted her manipulations, and was sorry. Veronica knew she should have found a way to actually vocalise this regret to Sarah – she’d been full of embarrassment about it – but that would have called for explanation, and as far as she’d come, she wasn’t yet ready.

Veronica went over to her immediately.

“Sarah.”

“It’s lovely to see you, Veronica,” Sarah smiled, a hand on her shoulder, an openness in her eyes, unguarded, enthusiastic, the image of her daughter. Veronica examined her.

“You too.”

“Letter still hasn’t arrived,” Sarah smiled.

“Oh—” Veronica began, but Sarah interrupted.